Montoya's Guess
by Jo2
Summary: Montoya has a hunch about who the Queen of Swords is and acts on it.


**MONTOYA'S GUESS**

by JoLayne  
[EnyaJo@aol.com][1]

Originally written as challenge responses on QoSFF list.

**CHARACTERS**: CM, T/Q, M, H, G, V

**SUMMARY**: Montoya takes a guess at who the Queen of Swords is.

~~~~~

The Queen walked stealthily from the stables to the side door of the Alvarado hacienda so as not to be seen by any of her workers. Inside was dark and she assumed Marta had gone to bed. Looking at the grandfather clock in the living room, she saw that it was well past midnight. She put her sword on the table in the eating room along with the dagger from her boot and the unused Queen of Swords card. Tessa lit a lamp and noticed that Marta must have been worried about her foray against Montoya that day. The rest of the tarot deck was spread out. Tessa hadn't needed to leave the card behind, so Marta will be glad when she will see it in the morning. 

The table was cluttered with the tarot cards, the paper, ink and quill pen that Tessa had used to write a letter to friends in Spain that she hadn't finished, a bowl of fruit. She picked up one of the apples and took a big bite as she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Then she saw it; another Queen of Swords tarot card. Tessa's eyes flitted from the card she had just placed on Marta's deck to the other one, not at all knowing where the card came from. Tessa placed the apple on the table and picked up the new card to take a closer look at it. The edges of the card were curled up, it was dirty, there was a crease along the center from it's being carried around for a while. That's when someone grabbed her from behind. A hand clamped onto her mouth and she was shoved face first against the wall. Even though she had been taken by surprise, Tessa elbowed the intruder, only to feel a powerful blow to her back.

Tessa slid down the wall, trying to grasp anything to stop her fall, still trying to unclamp that hand from her mouth. She was lifted and flipped around against the wall. The hand returned to her mouth, as if she was going to scream out. She could hardly get her breath from the kidney punch. With a mortified grunt, she stared into the face of her enemy, Colonel Montoya. His hand slid down from her mouth to her throat. "It is not lady-like to hit," he intoned as he started to squeeze, his breath fanning her face. "Or to disrupt my shipments, Senorita Alvarado. Or should I say, '**_Your Majesty_**'?"

His hand kept squeezing and Tessa clamped her hands on his fingers to loosen them from her neck. He continued with a simmering rage, "Once in a great while, the thought that you were in fact the Queen would tickle my brain, but you've been very careful to cover your tracks. I certainly can not go around accusing a Dona of such a thing. On a hunch, one that has always served me well, Senorita, I came here to find no one in residence. Surprising, for a Tuesday evening, and considering that the Queen was just in my presence miles away."

Montoya's normally vivid, bright eyes had darkened into pools of dark chocolate signifying his burning hatred. His raised eyebrows alerted her to his glee at finally figuring out the puzzle that had perplexed him for months. Tessa was starting to gasp for breath, started kicking at him to move back, release her. _How dare he!? I am the daughter of a Don! Who he had **murdered**_! She was getting weaker from the struggle.

Using his entire body, Montoya trapped hers against the wall. With his free hand, he pulled at the lace that covered her face. She kept moving her head from side to side; she was still prepared to tell him that she wasn't who he had correctly perceived was the Queen of Swords. But, he got the lace up over her head. "I always wanted to see your body swing from my noose in the town square, but this is just as sweet." He leaned his face in close to hers and seethed, "You will soon join your pig-headed padre!"

Tessa was about to lose consciousness and recited a quick prayer for her soul for forgiveness for the men who she had to have killed in the line of justice. Then her fighting spirit returned. She maneuvered herself with Montoya's uneasing grip on her throat back toward the table and she felt for anything to use as a weapon. Her sword slid off the table and clanked on the tile floor. Her dagger was too far away. Montoya realized what she was doing but she was fast to take a long, somewhat flimsy, implement, but it had a sharp point. The quill pen! She gripped it in her hand and shoved the point into the side of Montoya's neck. She could hardly focus anymore, but she did see his eyes flare, his body cower from the unexpected intrusion in his body, but his grip on her neck never loosened. 

Suddenly, his head was thrust against hers with a great force, knocking their foreheads together. Only then did his hand fall away from her neck. Both Tessa and Montoya fell to the floor, she settled on top of his body as she gasped for breath clutching at her throat, trying to shake off the stars that floated in front of her eyes. A hand was placed on her back as she started to hoarsely cough.

Marta could be heard saying, "Tessa! Are you all right?"

She couldn't speak, only nodded as she continued to try to get her breath. She was dizzy and couldn't quite focus. Until she realized that she was laying on top of the man who had her father killed, who had just tried to kill her. Tessa rolled off of him and looked up at Marta, who held the humongous Alvarado bible in her hands. While Marta looked at Montoya's body, Tessa couldn't tear her eyes from the blood smeared on the family crest made of gold that adorned the front of that bible that had been in her family for generations. Marta let go of the book, it thud to the ground, it's pages fluttering down.

"I killed him," Marta moaned, her hands to her face. "I was at the campfire and heard his voice when I returned. I didn't know what to do! I killed him!"

Tessa crawled to Montoya's body to check if he was still alive. She leaned down to feel breath fanning her cheek from his nose. "He's not dead, Marta," she hoarsely exclaimed.

"Madre de dios," she said as she crossed herself. 

Tessa sat back in wonder. "How did he find out? What did I do wrong?"

Her mind went through the events of the day, as she had ambushed the wagon of arms and rode the wagon to her secret cave. The cave had been a playhouse for her when she was a girl, but was quickly filling up with all the stolen merchandise that she had taken from Montoya, who had stolen most of it from someone else. If there were reales, gold or perishables, she would take them to a poor family of the county, leaving them on their stoop for them to find. The arms... well, she was stockpiling quite the armory.

After hiding the wagon, she released the horses and rode one of them back to where she had left Chico. She couldn't think of any way Montoya could have followed her, she hadn't seen anyone; Montoya always traveled with men, who carried their flags. Easy targets to spot. She couldn't resist tossing out one liners to the men she had to foil, but she hadn't said anything that would make any of them know that she was in fact Senorita Maria Teresa Alvarado. "There was nothing, Marta. It was just a lucky guess on his part."

Marta ran to get some towels to wipe up blood that started to pool at the base of Montoya's neck. Tessa wondered that if Montoya did happen to survive her family crest to the head or the ink filled tip of the pen to his neck, if she would have to kill him. If he knew her identity, her work was finished. _Sure, I could just tie him up and pack everything and return to Spain, but Montoya could tell the Spanish court what I've been was up to and they may not understand_.

When Marta returned, they turned Montoya's body over and dabbed at the blood from the slit in the back of his head. As Marta pulled out the quill tip, she asked, "What are we going to do, Tessa? I didn't mean to kill him."

Tessa responded, "I know. I thank you. I was almost to the point of--." 

"It's too bad he's alive." Marta plotted out, "We could just bury him next to Raoul and if he took his horse over here, you can release it far from here and we forgot any of this ever happened."

"We can't bury him alive."

"You don't think **_he_**__ hasn't done that in the past?"

"I can't think about what he may or may not have done, Marta. He's alive and we have to make sure he stays that way. Ride in and get Dr. Helm."

"He'll wonder what happened here."

"Then we'll have to tell him. We'll have to tell him everything." Tessa looked at Marta, who was just as shaky as she was, and said, "Dr. Helm will understand it all. Go."

Just then, Montoya groaned, startling them both. Both women jumped to their feet. Montoya raised his hand, opened his eyes, tried to sit up, but flopped back down on the floor. Tessa grabbed Marta and they looked at each other, wondering what to do. Neither of them wanted to get close to the man, but were relieved that he was once again conscious. Montoya grimaced as he felt the back of his head and then saw blood on his fingers. "What happened?"

"You fell," Marta quickly replied.

Montoya looked up at the woman and smiled. "What am I doing here?"

His demeanor was completely different than it was the last time he was conscious and Tessa bravely reached down to take his upturned hand. "You came to visit me and fell down. Are you all right, Colonel?"

Montoya shook off the dizziness and smiled up at Tessa. He took her hand and stated, "What a beautiful creature you are. And your name is?"

Tessa looked at Marta, then slowly replied, "I am Maria Teresa Alvarado. Colonel--."

"And that is?"

Tessa and Marta looked at each other again and shrugged. Their smiles glowed as they helped Montoya to his feet. Then Marta whispered, "He could be faking. Watch out."

"Faking what?" Montoya stumbled and they rushed him to the sofa. He fell back onto it heavily and looked up at Tessa and Marta. "What interesting clothing you wear. Trousers." Tessa saw her Queen outfit and ducked behind Marta so he couldn't see her. He asked, "Are you preparing a costume for a masquerade fiesta?"

Silence filled the room. "Yes, Colonel." Tessa slowly said because Marta would only look at her with a look to be careful. "I was thinking of throwing a fiesta. I..."

Marta shook her head, no, then told Montoya, "Excuse us while she changes, Colonel. We'll be right back. Don't go anywhere. You've had quite a fall."

As Marta hustled Tessa out of the room, they could hear Montoya say, "I'll wait." Montoya sat on the couch, holding the back of his head, then realized that his neck also hurt like the devil. "I've nothing better to do..."

~~~~~

Marta and Tessa rushed into Tessa's bedroom and could do nothing but mutely look at each other. As Tessa started pulling off her Queen costume, Marta shut the door and pulled the curtains closed. By the time Tessa was in a robe, Marta had lit the oil lamp. The prospect of the last half hour or so since the Queen had returned home had been eventful to say the least. Not only had Colonel Montoya been waiting in the dark after taking a guess at the Queen's identity, he had also tried to squeeze the life out of Tessa. He had seen Maria Teresa Alvarado in the flesh, with the lace pattern of the mask still imprinted on her face, while wearing her Queen uniform. Marta had almost made it possible for Montoya to fly with the angels--or conspire with the devil--because of a quick slam of the hefty Alvarado bible to the back of his head. To top it all off, he seemed to have lost his memories of not only where he was, why he was there, who Tessa and Marta were, but also who he himself was.

"Okay," Marta whirled around to say. "What in the world are we going to do now? He's alive, sure he doesn't know up from down--or wants us to think that--but he saw you in your Queen clothes. What are we going to do?!"

Tessa only paced, once in a while stopping suddenly, thinking she had heard something. Not hearing another follow-up noise, she continued to pace.

"Well?!"

Tessa shushed Marta and ran her hands hard across the top of her head. "I'm trying to come up with something. I can't even tell him that I'm a fencer and those were my practice clothes. Ladies aren't supposed to do that."

"Only the Queen does. I don't believe for a minute that he doesn't know anything," Marta said, lost in her own thought. "We shouldn't even be talking. He can hear us. I know he can hear us."

"He's on the other side of the casa."

"Diablo knows all, sees all." Marta joined her charge pacing and saw Tessa's umbrella leaning against the wall in the corner. She picked it up in a threatening matter, making Tessa step back. Marta commanded with a wild, almost happy look on her face, "You distract him and I'll whack him on the back of the head again. This time I'll do it right."

"Marta! Montoya is just a man, he's not Diablo."

"How many opportunities are we going to get? I say we get it over with and everyone will be better off."

The two women stared each other down as they both went over the possibility and all outcomes of what such an act as killing Montoya would do. To make herself more comfortable, Tessa grabbed the umbrella from Marta's hands and tossed it on the floor, far away from her. She'd seen Marta upset before but her reaction now was overboard. Marta suddenly told her, "He tried to kill you, Tessita. I can **_not_** allow that to happen."

Tessa smiled when she realized that her duenna could actually read her mind. She softly laughed and said, "With Montoya out of the way... dead... it would solve a lot of problems. I wouldn't have to dress as her anymore," as she looked at the black clothes in a pile on the floor. "I wouldn't have to pretend. I could get on with my life. It would be so much easier. You're right, Marta. I **_would_** be easier for everybody with Montoya dead."

Marta shushed her, placing her fingers on Tessa's lips. "I am sorry I filled your head with that nonsense. You can't kill him."

"Why not?"

"The devil you know is better than what may take his place," Marta replied. "I am going to go back out there and have a little chat. If he is faking the fact that his mind is a blank slate, I can make him falter."

"You? How?"

"He is infatuated with me."

"Oh," Tessa replied. As Marta reached the doorknob, she curiously asked, "When did this happen?"

Marta turned and smiled, "It was chocolate... in his office... things... never mind. Stay there. The less he sees of you the better."

A thought came to her, Montoya's horse had to be around there somewhere. If it wasn't, that meant that the Colonel had been brought there, which meant that the hacienda was surrounded! Even though she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary when she returned home, she also didn't expect her enemy to be in her living room. Tessa blew out the lamp and pulled back the curtain to see what was out there in the dark. Tessa was feeling faint, this time for real. Things happened so quickly, so unexpectantly, she was almost murdered in her own home and now Marta--with murderous thoughts in mind--was alone with Montoya!

"Tessa!"

Marta's voice startled Tessa, and made her rush to the living room, grabbing that umbrella in case a weapon was needed. What Tessa saw was Marta standing with her hands planted on her hips before Montoya reclining on the sofa. As Tessa cautiously neared them, Marta gestured to him. "He's out like a little baby."

Tessa looked closely at him. "He's not dead, is he?"

"No," Marta disappointedly said. "But if I get the rest of that block of ice in the pantry if it isn't completely melted yet and just hold it up over his head and then accidently drop it because it's so slippery..." She saw Tessa's expression that it wasn't an option and then shrugged. "Okay."

Tessa leaned close to Montoya and lifted his hand, then dropped it. He curled it under his cheek that rested against the velvet pillow. Tessa told Marta, "You're still dressed. Go out and look for Montoya's horse. I didn't see it earlier. If you find it, let it go free. It may help with whatever story we have to devise. He fell off his horse and after hearing a ruckus went out to find him laying out there and brought him inside. Oops, he doesn't remember anything. You know what? We have to take off his clothes."

Marta paused and then slowly looked over at Tessa. "I know you are going to expect me to ask why on earth we would need to do that."

"If he fell outside, his clothes would have to be dirty. We can't take him outside and throw him on the ground."

Marta looked at the Colonel and couldn't help but remember her encounter with him in his office, just that afternoon. He was certainly a study in contrasts. One minute he could be the most charming man who ever walked the earth, the next he could be calling for the execution of a criminal charged with trumped up or non-existent offenses.

"Since neither of us are jumping at the chance to disrobe him, why don't you go out to find his horse?"

"I don't think I should leave the two of you alone."

"Why?" Tessa smiled. "He's not infatuated with **_me_**."

"No, he wants to **_kill_** you."

"Look at him, he wants to sleep. Go."

As Marta hesitantly went to the door, then outside, Tessa stood on guard in front of the man who had almost killed her that evening. She poked him on the arm. He didn't move. She shook him. He only ground his mouth and lifted then dropped his head. With his hand under the pillow, the light smile on his face, Luis Montoya looked so at peace. Tessa wondered if she had ever seen him so relaxed. "It's now or never Tessa," she told herself. But she didn't move. "Any day, Tessa."

Finally she took a deep breath and started to unbutton the Colonel's black uniform jacket. When all the buttons were undone, she checked to see that he still hadn't moved. She quickly unbuttoned his trousers, then stepped back to see if he was awake. "My! He could sleep through a cyclone!" She poked him again and he didn't move. She checked his breathing again and he was still in the land of the living and wondered if the knock to the head had anything to do with his comatose state. 

~~~~~

Marta found Montoya's horse tied to a mesquite tree a good distance from the hacienda. If the stallion hadn't been neighing, she never would have found him that far away in the dark. She mounted the horse and rode it back to the hacienda before dismounting and hitting it on the behind to make it take off into the night. A figure came out of the house and run toward her. Marta dodged the running silhouette. 

Tessa, wearing Montoya's jacket and trousers flopped backward on the dirt as if thrown from a horse, rolled a bit, grounding the soil into the fabric. Marta walked over and offered a hand to help her up. Tessa and Marta both dusted some of the dirt off, then walked into the house again.

~~~~~

**THE NEXT MORNING**

Luis stirred on the velvet sofa and felt the scratchy fabric of the afghan on his cheek. Waved it away and opened his eyes to see the sun streaming in a strange window of a strange room. He tried to sit up, but as soon as he lifted his head from the pillow, he flopped back down. The dizziness was strong and there was a dull pain on the back of his head. He laid back and waited until his mind cleared.

Looking off to his left, he saw a woman's dress. A long, curly haired beauty was hunched down on the chair across from the sofa on which he laid. Her head was facing him but her eyes were closed, her chin settled on her shoulder. She was the most magnificent creature Montoya had ever seen in his life, he was sure of it. He figured that the strange house was hers. He tried again to rise and made it into the sitting position, but leaning heavily on the back of the sofa to look at her. Suddenly, another woman--a young woman--rushed into the room. "He's awake," she said. 

The woman on the chair awoke and both of their eyes were stared at him. Luis realized that they were probably waiting for him to say or do something, but at that moment, he couldn't come up with anything. Or maybe he had food on his clothes or something. He looked down at himself and saw a white shirt and untied ascot. His hand rubbed against his leg and all it felt was the scratchy fabric of the afghan. He lifted the blanket to see that he was only wearing underwear below the waist. He quickly covered himself and looked back at the women. 

The older woman with long, curly hair had stood up from her chair and along with the younger one with long, straight hair, moved closer to him, scrutinizing him so intimately that he didn't know what to think. What did they have in mind? What had he done? Where was he? "Good morning," was all he could think to say to ease the tension along with the silence in the room.

"Good morning?" The curly haired one firmly asked, "Is that all you have to say?"

"I am sure, madam, that I have many things to say. One of which would be, where are my clothes?"

The woman with long straight hair motioned to a military jacket and trousers lying over the back of another chair. Luis could see a gold insignia, brocade and fringes on the jacket, along with a lot of dirt. The younger one said, "You had an accident last night, Colonel." She leaned in close to him and put her hand to his forehead, which wasn't an unwelcome intrusion for him at all. "Do you feel well? You gave us quite a scare."

"Accident? What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Sure he--," the older woman said, to which the younger woman stopped her from getting too close to Montoya on the sofa. The older woman's eyes had taken a different tone since she had awaken. To Luis' mind, she was much more attractive asleep. He got the feeling that she didn't care much for him. As much as he tried, he couldn't figure out why.

"Colonel," the younger one started again. "Last night, you fell off your horse not far from here and we brought you inside to lie down. Then you said the strangest thing." Her light smile intrigued him. "You didn't know me. Or Marta. Or even... yourself. Are you feeling better this morning?"

"I feel..." Luis paused. The back of his head smarted, he didn't know where he was and wasn't wearing any pants. "Those are my clothes?" He indicated the dirty clothes on the chair. They both nodded, although the younger one's nod was much more cordial. "Why am I over here and my clothes are over there?"

"We didn't want to get the sofa soiled," the older one spouted. "Even though **_you_** are on it."

Luis asked the older woman, "You don't like me, do you?" Before she could answer, he asked the nicer one, "I fell off a horse?"

"Yes." The younger woman who smelled of lilacs sat next to him on the sofa. "We heard a horse's neigh and rushed out and your horse was galloping away and you were lying on the ground. We found a rattle snake, Colonel. It was a good thing there was a shovel in the courtyard. Marta here rushed out and killed the snake that spooked your horse before it could bite you."

Luis looked up at the older woman and said, "Marta." He turned to the younger one. "And you are?"

"Colonel, I am Maria Teresa Alvarado."

Luis looked back at Marta. "You saved my life."

Marta smirked. "Yes, but there is no need to thank me." 

Luis unsteadily got to his feet then bowed his head to her. "But I should. By the sound of it, I would not lived to see the glorious sun this morning if not for your... beating a snake over the head with a shovel. May I see the snake?"

Tessa uneasily laughed. "Why on earth would you want to see the snake?"

"To see the face of my enemy."

Tessa frightfully asked, "Excuse me?" 

Luis realized that when he had stood, the afghan hadn't traveled with him as Tessa was sitting atop it. He sank back down on the sofa and covered himself with the blanket once again. "To see the face of the creature who would have taken my life."

"Tessa," Marta exclaimed. "Why don't we go in the other room so our guest can dress?"

As soon as Tessa stood, Marta grabbed her hand and moved to the door. Luis could have swore he heard her continue in a whisper, "The sooner he is dressed, the sooner he will get the hell out of here."

Luis was disappointed. How could that older woman hold such hatred for him? He stood again and went to his clothes. He picked up the jacket and was sure that he had never seen it before in his life. But he put it on. It fit like a glove. He brushed dirt off the sleeves and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror above a dresser. He straightened the coat and lifted his head with pride. It **_did_** look good on him. 

~~~~~

Marta and Tessa stopped in the eating room. Marta had hurriedly cleared the table of the tarot cards earlier that morning, along with the blood tipped quill pen and the pages of the letter Tessa had been writing to a friend back in Spain about the dictator Santa Helena was stuck with. The only thing she hadn't cleared from sight was the bible. In the daylight, Montoya's blood was clear for all to see. 

Tessa was looking off in the direction of the living room and said, "You know, I almost feel sorry for him. Can you imagine losing everything in your head?"

"To see the face of my enemy?" Marta spat on a cloth and started rubbing the blood off the golden Alvarado insignia on the front of the bible. "That was a Colonel speaking. He knows it all, he's just faking. I don't know why you didn't call him on it."

"Marta, he looked so lost. His shoulders were slumped. When have you ever seen Colonel Montoya slump his shoulders? Never."

A sudden knock, then another, made the women jump. The front door opened and from the other room, they heard Montoya loudly ask, "Who are you?"

They rushed back into the living room to see Captain Grisham and two of his men enter her home. Tessa moved forward to demand, "Whatever happened to waiting outside until someone has allowed you entrance?"

Grisham tipped his hat to her and said, "My apologies ma'am, but we've been looking for the Colonel all morning. His horse was found galloping into town, riderless. We followed the tracks and it brought us right to your door."

"Yes, Capitan," Tessa told him, then repeated the lie they had prepared and tried out on Montoya to Grisham. 

After he heard the tale, he looked at his superior, standing off to the side. Grisham walked to him and looked closely at his eyes. "Colonel?"

"That is what they have been calling me."

Grisham smiled. "You lost your marbles?"

"I lost what?" Luis scratched his head. "I do not seem to remember having marbles."

Without dawdling, Grisham bowed to Tessa and said, "Ma'am? Sorry for the intrusion. Thank you for tending to the Colonel last evening. My men and I will make sure he gets back home in one piece."

"You'll call on Dr. Helm to check him?"

"Yes, senorita." Grisham grinned. "Colonel Montoya is safe in my hands."

Grisham took Montoya's arm and steered him to the door. Luis looked back at the woman and smiled, nodded his head, then stopped. "Thank you for taking care of me. And you," he indicated Marta, "for killing that snake. I owe you one, even though you do not like me."

They watched Grisham get Montoya on one of his men's horse and mount his own. They rode off, the two other soldiers sharing the third horse. Marta mused, "Well, he's out of our hands now."

"As long as he doesn't say anything about seeing the Queen last night. Right here. Me."

~~~~~

Grisham lead Montoya up the stone stairs to his mansion after he had complained of being dizzy again from the ride into the pueblo. One of the soldiers asked, "Should I rustle up Helm?"

"Nah," Grisham said over his shoulder down on the soldier at the bottom of the stairs. "Colonel Montoya will be all right." 

Luis felt secure with the young Captain and seemed to feel better when he so handily found him and was bringing him home. A home he didn't remember, but a home nonetheless. Luis couldn't wait to get inside to see his own things. Maybe something would make him remember.

When he got into the house, up the stairs, into what he assumed was his bedroom, Luis looked it over. There were fine things in that room. Expensive things. More uniforms were hung in a row in the open closet. The bed looked nice and soft. He couldn't wait to climb into it. 

The comfort Luis felt disappeared as he was shoved to the floor by the young Captain. The door to the bedroom was shut, the lock was turned. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"Taking over, Colonel." Grisham grinned as he stood above him. "I've been waiting a long while for such an opportunity to do this. Hello Devil, welcome to hell."

~~~~~

Luis didn't know what to think. After being roughly pushed into the room by Grisham, a man who was supposed to be his subordinate, Luis still sat on the floor with his hands planted behind him. The ornate room seemed to be his bedroom and the pacing military man seemed to be thinking about his next move. Luis put a hand on the white comforter that covered the soft bed next to him and got himself to his feet.

"Sit down, Luis," Grisham warned in a threatening tone that made Luis sit. As he sunk onto the downy mattress of the bed, he really wanted to sleep. There was still a buzzing in his head and even though he had awoken on the Alvarado sofa, he felt as if he hadn't rested at all. His mind went back to that morning, to the two breathtakingly beautiful women. One helpful, concerned; the other looked like she wanted to roast his heart and feed it to the dogs. For the life of him, he still couldn't figure out why the older of the two women so detested him. His eye caught his reflection in the mirror and he studied his own face. Stubble dotted his cheeks and chin, making the elegant beard look scruffy. His long hair had become mussed, strands had broken free from the holder behind his neck and floated in the air whenever he turned his head. That didn't seem to be him at all. 

As Grisham paced behind him, stopping once in a while with a thought, then seemingly dismissing it, Luis ignored him and concentrated on his hair. He pulled the holder out and looked around until he spotted a brush on the bureau. He rose to use it and stood before the mirror brushing his hair smooth. Grisham said, "Sit back down."

Luis looked at him in the mirror as Grisham stood across the room. "Why?"

"I have to do this right. I just need to think."

Luis smiled and turned around. "And it takes you a while to think? I am just to sit quietly while you try think?"

Grisham stopped and glared at the Colonel. "Yes," he said as his hand laid upon a gun in the holster at his hip. 

Luis said, "I see. Will you be taking long? I would like to shave and change out of this dirty uniform."

Grisham flung Montoya back onto the bed with a forceful yank on the shoulder. "You don't do anything unless I say so. I've been following orders all my life. Now is time that I rise up and take the command that I should rightfully have."

"But, you are a Capitan," Luis said, looking the young man over from head to toe as he sat as straight as possible. "They say that I am a Colonel. That means that you answer to me."

"Not anymore." Grisham laid his hands on his knees to stoop down and look Luis straight in the eye. "Colonel," he began. This brusk tone had turned into one of concern as he continued, "You are incompacitated. The county will suffer under your command from now on as you don't remember the nuances that have to be taken into consideration with each passing minute of guiding Santa Helena through the 19th century. We had plans, you and I. If you **_were_** dealing with a full deck, you'd realize that the only way to keep control of the town, the county, Reyes in Monterrey..." Grisham paused and scrunched his brow. "Do you even remember Reyes?"

Luis searched high and low through the catacombs of his mind and had to admit that the name didn't ring a bell. Grisham smiled and stood straight. "I will take care of everything. I will command with all the plans that you and I made."

"But, **_I_**__ am Colonel."

"You were. But, truth to be told, you were not very good at it. The peasants were always uprising, Monterrey was always breathing down your neck, the Spanish court hasn't been pleased with you, the Queen of Swords has made us all look like idiots, and how you've treated me, your faithful servant... well. I couldn't do anything right in your eyes. According to you, if I were to take up shroud making, men would stop dying. If I sold candles, the sun would never set. You were wrong. I am more than capable of taking over the reins."

Luis looked down at the dirty uniform that he wore and straightened the medal on his chest, thinking over all the mysteries that Grisham had brought up. Monterrey? Reyes? A Queen of some sort? Luis started to realize that Grisham was planning a coup. Luis looked at himself in the mirror again. That uniform did fit his body, he was a cultured man, a military man, a Colonel! _If I was so inept as Grisham would have me believe, why am I still in power_? The young man looked wild, he looked ready to snap. He looked as if he was at the well of power and was ready to take a drink. Luis said, "This is only a temporary situation. I had a knock on the head. I will be all right. I can still lead."

Grisham laughed, making Luis stand. Even though the uniform jacket was dusty, he straightened it and ordered, "I am your commander, Capitan! You show me respect."

They stood toe to toe as they stared each other down. Grisham slowly shook his head. "You are **_not_**__ going to screw up this chance for me." Suddenly, Grisham drew his sword and rammed the hilt across Luis' forehead. Luis jumped back shocked. Grisham muttered aloud, "It is now or never." Grisham rammed the blade into Montoya's side then quickly drew it out again as Luis slumped to the floor.

~~~~~

Tessa entered Santa Helena in the carriage wanting to see how the Colonel was adapting to his life and if the fact that he had witnessed her in her home wearing the Queen's uniform was now public knowledge. Marta had told her that she should steer clear of the pueblo and stay guarded in the hacienda until the coast was clear. If no one had come gunning for her in a couple of days, then it would be safe to resume Maria Teresa's life. Tessa had to find out now; waiting wasn't one of her virtues. But she was also prudent. Tessa could get away from any threat that may come in town fast if she was alone. Marta agreed and started to pack up the essentials if they had to make a fast getaway to Spain or Mexico, anywhere but Alto California.

Tessa stepped out of the carriage and walked toward Helm's office. As she reached the door, she heard a voice behind her, "Don't bother to knock."

Tessa turned to see Helm with his medicine bag in his hand smiling at her. "Oh, Dr. Helm. I was just coming to see you."

"I see that. What is wrong today? Headache, stomach ache?"

"No. Actually I am very worried, doctor."

"About what?"

"The Colonel had a terrible accident last night." She saw Helm's eyes raise in surprise. She continued to inform him, "He fell from his horse not far from my hacienda. Marta and I tended him as best we could. Grisham brought him back to town early this morning and I was wondering how he was. I didn't want to disturb him so I came to see you. I was sure that you have tended him upon his return, so I am checking up on him."

"This is the first I've heard of it," he said with genuine concern. 

"You have not seen--," Tessa began.

"The Queen!" Grisham's voice rang out from Montoya's balcony, alerting all in the area. "The Queen has attacked the Colonel! Round up your horses and go after her! She must not escape this time!"

Both Tessa and Helm reacted in shock from the news and the soldiers who had been rustled from their duty of keeping the peace. Helm's head whipped around and stared at Tessa, then he looked back at where Grisham had just been, then back at her. Tessa knew at that moment that he had been under the assumption that she was the Queen. Before she could say anything, he ran towards Montoya's. She stood there for an instant wondering what had just happened. _The **Queen** attacked Montoya? If he is indeed hurt, it wasn't by my hand_! She ran after Helm up the stairs to Montoya's living quarters and through the door that Helm had left open.

What she saw terrified her. Helm and a guard were lifting Montoya onto his bed. The floor, the side of the bed linen and Montoya's mid section were full of blood. Helm hurriedly opened the Colonel's uniform and yelled for towels which the guard and another that just appeared at the door went to get. "And a basin of water!"

Tessa moved closer to see that Montoya's eyes were shut. To her estimation, he was already dead. Helm used the uniform jacket to mop up blood and then started to use Montoya's coverlet on the bed. Tessa asked, "Is he...?"

"He is breathing."

"Was he shot?"

"Stabbed. Open my bag."

"Will he be all right?"

"If you get me my bag!" Tessa only stood there frozen by this turn of events. Helm yelled again, "Give me my bag! Where are those towels?!" He held his hand over the stab wound and pressed down with all his weight. Tessa opened his bag and positioned it by Helm's foot so he could reach into it. "I have to see if there's an exit wound. Help me turn him over."

She did and the sight and feel of Montoya's blood on her hands about made her throw up. Helm looked at Montoya's back and felt for a wound. "Good. The blade didn't go all the way through." He looked up at her as she offered her shawl to use on the wound. Then he shook his head. 

Tessa asked, "What?"

"You. You are a mystery wrapped in an enigma."

"How so?"

"Never mind." Helm motioned for the coming soldiers to hurry. He asked Tessa to get a bottle of liquor, any alcohol would do. As she walked to Montoya's office, she looked out to the town square at the fury of activity. 

Guards were on horseback, Grisham was yelling orders, calling himself the Colonel in charge. Town people were huddling along the stores' walls and holding their children safe from the pouncing horses. As Grisham and his main men rode from town, she stood stunned at the balcony rail.

~~~~~

Captain Marcus Grisham raced his white stallion out of Santa Helena with a small garrison of men. They were supposed to be finding the Queen of Swords, as she had just 'killed the Colonel as he laid in bed', but Grisham didn't know how long to keep up the charade. A spur of the moment mistake would probably take all day to fix, if not longer, if he didn't swing from the gallows for insubordination, attacking a commanding officer, murder, but most of all for being stupid. Since he first enlisted in the corp he had high hopes. He wanted to rise in the ranks, be loyal, but at the same time look for any opportunity for promotion. While serving under Montoya in that back water piece of landscape far, Grisham had seen how he could succeed. 

In that seemingly insignificant berg, Grisham knew he could take over and run it in a far more organized manner than Montoya had. Montoya was cultured, smart, ruthless when he needed to be, everything that Grisham had looked up to, had wanted to be. For just a moment, Grisham regretted killing the Colonel. He had envisioned taking over the county, had tastes of everything that power would allow him. It was all his now. His men were indeed loyal, for they were training their telescopes off in the distance for the black vigilantress that Grisham knew wasn't there. Whether they were loyal to him personally, or wanted revenge for Montoya's death, Grisham couldn't determine. 

While still in town, Grisham had cut his men into four regiments to search the four winds. He slowed his horse and looked back toward the pueblo in the distance, back at what he had done. One of the regiments had started to return to town instead of heading into the mountains toward the east. With his men surrounding him, Grisham ordered two to head toward Monterey, to tell the Governor what had happened and that he was in charge and would be expecting his inspection.

It was a long ride to Monterey and expectedly, Grisham saw the two men, with the fastest horses under them that he had chosen, hesitate. He told them, "Go to the Alvarado hacienda and get supplies for the ride. Tell them you are serving the Spanish flag. They'll provide you with all that you'll need."

'Sir," one of them trepidatiously said. "My wife. She is to deliver soon."

Grisham had just given a direct order to a subordinate and the man put his wife before the Spanish crown? He adjusted his bearing on his steed and wondered what Montoya would have done in such a situation. He was about to be angry, ready to have him locked up for not hopping to attention when an order had been given. But he didn't want to be that sort of leader. Montoya hadn't been. Grisham nodded to him. "Perdón, you are needed at home." Grisham looked at the others. "Any volunteers to take his place?"

To his delight, two men rose their hands. Grisham chose which one and with a salute, the chosen two rode toward the Alvarado hacienda, following orders.

~~~~~

Tired and worried, Marta sat and put her head down on her folded arms at the table. She hadn't wanted Tessa to go to town so soon for fear that she would run into Montoya and--amnesiac or not--seeing her could trigger the memory of seeing her in her Queen outfit right there in the Alvarado living room. She had spent most of the morning packing trunks of essentials in case they had to get on a boat for Spain, or somewhere, anywhere safe, if Tessa was found out. It was all too much for Marta's nerves so she poured herself a glass of wine. As she sat back to savor the liquid and hoping it would make her relax enough to get a little sleep, she saw two soldiers ride up to the veranda.

Panicking, Marta dropped the glass of wine and it shattered on the tile floor. Neither Tessa nor Montoya were with them; she couldn't figure out why they were there. With her heart in her throat thinking that they had come to arrest her for aiding the Queen and that Tessa was already hanged, Marta rushed to the door of the cellar thinking she could hide.

The soldiers knocked on the door. That surprised Marta. They didn't beat on the door, they didn't kick the door in, they politely knocked. She thought it could be a ruse, but she bucked up the courage to open the door. They each had their hats in their hands and told her about their mission.

"Montoya is **_dead_**__?!" Marta leaned back against the cool wall as she tried to comprehend what they had told her, and how she imagined that it all had happened. "Was it from the knock on the head?" Her first instinct was to be sorry that she had pounded the Colonel with the Alvarado bible, that she had killed him. Her second was that since Montoya had been ready to kill Tessa, The Queen, it was self-defense. The soldiers had entered the casa and had seen the broken glass on the floor by the time Marta's mind had returned to the present. She told them that she hadn't gotten to cleaning it up, that it was spilled the evening before. The soldiers told her what they would require and patiently waited as she gathered it.

~~~~~

Helm had been able to stop Montoya's bleeding and stitch up the stab wound, but Montoya hadn't regained consciousness. With Tessa's help, they had found bedclothes for the Colonel to wear. After Tessa had left the room, Helm changed him and tucked him in. As he stood straight and stretched the kinks out of his back, he heard Tessa on the balcony. "Dr. Helm? Are you finished yet?"

"Yes, senorita," he said as he opened the door to see Tessa and a guard on the balcony. He noted that she was ignoring the guard. _Of course_, he thought. _The guard is nothing to her_.

Tessa immediately walked in the room and looked at the sleeping Colonel. "Is there any more we can do for him?"

"Not at the present."

"There must be something," she declared as she hovered at his bedside. 

Helm nodded to the guard outside the door then shut it. He looked at the young woman who had come to his aid, served as a very capable nurse, hadn't gotten sick from not only the sight of blood, but by having it all over her heads. Spots of red still dotted her dress. As she took Montoya's hand and then put it gently back on the bed, Helm decided that he had underestimated the will of Senorita Alvarado. She was more effective and compassionate than he had ever imagined. 

He stood beside her as he softly asked, "Are you close to the Colonel?"

She shook her head and stepped back from the bed. "No. It's just... this is all so confusing," she said with a little laugh. 

"Yes," Helm agreed. "It is that." After all the conversations, in dangerous situations or in the peaceful din of his office, with the Queen, he had never dreamed she could be so callous as to attack the Colonel when he was down. He asked, "Did you see hide or hair of the Queen this afternoon?"

"No, doctor," Tessa said. 

Helm mused aloud, "She usually makes her presence known. How could she have gotten into Montoya's house and attack him? How could she have known that he was impaired, that it was the perfect time to strike?"

"The Queen is many things, but she is not a murderer," Tessa said.

Helm was surprised to hear such a thing from a dona. All the other dons and their wives thought of the Queen as a rabble rouser, a detriment. "Have you had meetings with the Queen?"

Tessa turned her head away from him in such a way that made him want to see her face more clearly. As he would move more in front of her, she would turn away once again. She finally faced him to say, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. She was helpful to one of my workers. I don't resent her like others of my rank. She is not a murderer. She did not do this."

Helm said, "I think--." But was cut off by the return of Grisham into the town square. They both went out to the balcony to see people gathered around him as he dismounted his horse.

~~~~~

Luis felt a searing pain in his side and slowly opened his eyes. As he focused on the ceiling, he grabbed his side, which made the pain worse. A low groan escaped him. He turned his head, which felt like it was in a vise. Footsteps were heard as they rushed from the door to his bedside. He opened his eyes to see a young woman and a man. As he focused on the young woman's long brown hair, Luis heard the man say, "Colonel, just lay back. Don't get up." Luis wasn't even aware that he had been trying to and that was what was making side burn. The man pushed him back on the bed but Luis was looking straight at the woman who was visible just above the man's shoulder. 

Luis touched his forehead and felt a lump, the touching of which sent searing waves of pain across his head. He shut his eyes and tried to make sense of everything that had happened to him. The memories that he had were jumbled, fast, didn't make much sense. The young woman's face, a mustached man sneering at him as he bent over to mock him, sitting in a darkened living room as he slowly smoked a cigar waiting... for something, a curly haired woman who Luis knew hated him, snipping roses in his courtyard, the hilt of a sword smashing him on the head, commanding his men. Luis jerked his head back and fell back into a deep sleep as more remembrances flashed in his mind.

~~~~~

Grisham marched into Montoya's bedroom and was somewhat surprised that he didn't see the Colonel's face covered with a sheet. "He's?"

Helm stuck his hands in his pockets and told the captain, "He's very sick, but yes, he is alive."

"Well," Grisham said, trying to sound pleased. "This is good news."

Tessa walked from behind Helm to ask, "Did you capture the Queen, Capitan?"

"No," he said. "Once again, she has alluded us." Grisham pointed to Montoya. "Is he going to be all right?"

"We hope so," Helm said. 

Grisham didn't like how he was being inspected by Tessa and Helm. "Why aren't there any guards in here? He should be protected 24 hours a day. Guards!"

The hall door opened, along with the balcony door, and Grisham told the guards, "Guard this room with your lives. Give the doctor anything he needs to tend to the Colonel. Word has been sent to the Governor about what has happened here. We should be expecting his arrival within a week."

The guards retook their positions at each open door as Helm and Tessa looked at each other. Grisham slightly bowed to Tessa, "Senorita? Would you be needing an escort back to your estate?"

"No, Capitan. I will stay here to help Dr. Helm tend to the Colonel."

"That won't be necessary," Helm said. "I've done as much as I can for the moment. Thank you for your help, Tessa. Oh," he paused. "May I call you Tessa?" After an affirmative nod of her head, he told her, "I was able to work quickly because you were here."

"Yes," Grisham agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "The Colonel is alive thanks to you, both of you. Good work." He walked closer to the bed to look upon the face of the man who had been in his way.

"There's no need for you to stay, Tessa," Helm said. "You've had a busy day, why don't you go home and rest?"

"I am not a fragile doll, doctor," Tessa said. "I can--."

"I wouldn't dream of thinking that you were," Helm said. 

Grisham finally looked at the two of them and saw that Helm was holding Tessa's hand. That worried him. Maria Theresa Alvarado was who Grisham wanted to eventually have, as soon as he would be able to bend her to his will. He would marry her and acquire all her wealth, be a Don. At least that was the plan before he so impulsively stabbed the Colonel. She was almost flush as Helm held her hand.

"Tessa," Helm continued, "Let me escort you to your carriage. If the Colonel needs a nurse, I'll know who to ask."

"All right," Tessa said, smiling. "But first, the household staff should be alerted to those soiled sheets and the Colonel's uniform."

Grisham smiled. She was thinking of any way to stay there, to stay in the doctor's presence. And was pretty obvious. "I'll alert them Senorita," Grisham said. "Thank you once again for tending to the Colonel."

After Helm escorted Tessa out of the room, Grisham closed each door. He went to the window to see if Helm would actually put her in her carriage and he could squire her another day. When the doctor and Tessa reached her carriage, they talked. They seemed relaxed with each other. Grisham knew that he would have to work fast to get the senorita to once again look in his direction, not look elsewhere, to the doctor for instance.

Grisham paced in deep thought, making plans. Then he stopped. He had done the exact same thing that morning and had done an extremely foolish thing. He looked toward the bed. He didn't see the comatose Colonel, as he had while there were others in the room. What he saw was a slight smile on the Colonel's face that slowly grew. The Colonel opened his eyes, squinted with what must have been massive pain, and stared up at him. "So, Grisham. How do you plan on escaping with your life?"

With those words from his superior that he had stabbed to kill, Grisham felt as if his head had lifted off his head and was floating out the window. He looked toward the window and saw Doctor Helm lifted Senorita Alvarado's hand as she stepped into her carriage. The Colonel had been faking his amnesia! "Um," Grisham uttered. "Well...um," he continued, scratching his head. The he mumbled, "This is troubling..." 

He was at a loss of what to say, so he would just roll with the flow. "Sir," he said to Montoya as Montoya slowly sat up, holding the bedpost for support. At that moment, Grisham had intense respect for the Spaniard. He had seen Montoya deal with almost impossible tasks and had always come out smelling like one of his prized roses in his courtyard. The big knob on his forehead, where Grisham's hilt had made contact, was deep red with a splash of purple. He had been stabbed in the side, but Montoya was slowly rising to his feet. The Colonel stood straight, even though Grisham knew it had to hurt like hell. 

"Would it help matters at all to say that I am sorry?"

Montoya's hand clamped onto Grisham's shoulder, making the American jerk in surprise from the strength that came behind it. "It would help," Montoya said. "But I doubt that it would change the situation."

"Sir," Grisham said, thinking he would beg, plead, and beg again for his life. 

Montoya smiled and softly pointed his finger to his face. "That is good. That is a start. I am Sir." Montoya shook his head with anger. "'Have you lost your marbles'? 'Dealing with a full deck'? Yes, Capitan, I remember Reyes, and I am **_not_** the devil." Then Montoya backhanded Grisham across the face. Grisham fell back on the bed and slid to the floor. He looked up at Montoya holding his jaw, that could very well be broken. "I am only a man. A man... who outranks you."

Montoya sat on the bed and peered down to sneer into Grisham's ear. "Have you enjoyed being a Capitan, Grisham?"

Grisham tried to speak, but his jaw was on fire. Instead, he only nodded the affirmative. Montoya slapped him on the head. "No, you have not. If you had, you would not have done such a stupid thing." Grisham didn't want to look at him, but saw him straighten his dressing gown as he sat just by Grisham's shoulder. "I do not even have to pull the trigger to end your life. I do not even have to give the order to have you swing from the gallows."

Grisham looked up at Montoya as the Colonel paused as if to listen. "Do you hear that, Grisham? I believe that those are the foot steps of a certain Brit who does seem to want justice in everything in life. All I have to do is lay back on this bed and cringe in pain and tell the good doctor that it was you who stabbed me."

There was a knock on the door and Montoya answered, "One moment, please," in a voice that was full of pain, weak in volume. 

They heard Helm say, "Very well," and he did not enter.

"You see, Grisham," Montoya whispered into Marcus' ear. "I could leave it to the doctor to order your confinement. He is a Lieutenant, never forget that. Yes, in the enemy's army, but insubordination is still insubordination. Attempted murder... is universal. Yes," Montoya smiled. "I knew there was a good reason that I chose that particular doctor for my pueblo. He has not been very quick to obey me, but he would not be able to control himself when he finds out what you have done."

Grisham stood, holding his jaw. He didn't like the grin on Montoya's face, like he had just opened the best Christmas present that he had ever received. Grisham knew he couldn't stay there and his mind whirled of all the possible places that he could hide, to get supplies for the long trip out of Santa Helena, then out of the county. Vera. She would help him. She might even allow him to hide out in their hacienda for a few days. 

All Grisham's plans were mute as Montoya laid back and said in a pain addled voice, "Doctor, please enter."

The door opened and Helm looked from Montoya pulling the blanket over his body on the bed to Grisham, who didn't like the turn of events. Helm asked, "Have you been out of bed, Colonel?"

"Only to test my strength, doctor," Montoya said, without taking his eyes off of Grisham. 

Helm looked at Grisham's red and swollen chin. "What happened to you?"

"Well," Grisham said, causing his jaw pain. "I will leave you now."

Before he could make it out the door, Montoya yelled, "Guards! Take hold of that man. Do not let him get away."

Suddenly there were four guards who entered the Colonel's bedroom, but they didn't move to apprehend Grisham. Grisham smiled. He himself was there immediate superior and wouldn't do such a thing. He had to be quick. Helm asked, "What is going on here?"

Montoya raised his hand and said, "He... is to be held for questioning. Not in a nice cell, tied in the square." Grisham started for the door, but Montoya yelled, "Now!" then collapsed back on the bed. The guards snapped to attention and grabbed Grisham's arms and led him out of the bedroom. Grisham didn't say a word, he didn't fight them. He was caught and he would face the consequences, for the moment. 

**THE NEXT DAY**

Montoya stood before his mirror wearing his best uniform. The black suit would be warm under the sun, but the gold brocade at his neck made him look stronger than he actually was. He had made a decision about Grisham's fate and wanted to look as official as possible, if not down right regal. It hurt to lift his right arm too much because of the stitches, so he turned to the waiting Helm. "Would you be so kind as to tie this for me?"

Helm walked to him and tied the ascot and tucked it into his jacket. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what in the bloody hell is going on? Why has Grisham been tied to that post for over 24 hours? No food, I haven't been able to check his jaw. You're actually treating him as the enemy."

Montoya turned back toward the mirror and said, "Your army dealt with situations your way, I deal with them in mine." He made sure he was as presentable as he had hoped. "Very nice, Helm. Very nice work. You have tied an ascot or two in your life. When will you ever reveal what all you are?"

He didn't give Helm enough time to reply. He pointed at an ornate wood box and asked Helm to bring it to him. When Montoya opened it, the medal glowed when the sun hit it. Helm said, "Aren't you wearing enough military honors already, Colonel?"

"You can never wear enough when you need to make a point." Montoya took the medal from the velvet lined box, blew on it and rubbed it on his jacket. Then, while looking in the mirror, he pinned the golden star on his chest. After one more look in the mirror, he decided that he was ready.

"Stay here, Helm," he said as he walked to open the door.

"You shouldn't even be out of bed, let alone dressed and walking."

"Stay here." Montoya grabbed the dagger on the table before opening the door and walking out onto the balcony. His first sight was Grisham tied to the post. His head was hanging down, people were avoiding him, gave him a wide berth as they would pass by the post. Not only was he teaching Grisham a lesson, but if Montoya could treat the Captain that way, no one was safe.

It took great pains to walk down the steps from the balcony to the square, but he did it, head held high, a guard at each side. First a few, then slowly everyone in the square saw him and silently watched the Colonel descend the steps and walk toward his prisoner. As Montoya walked the length toward the post and Grisham, who hadn't realized what was happening. The townspeople averted their eyes from the Colonel and made tracks to get out of the way. In the back of his mind, Montoya had expected the Queen of Swords to try to free Grisham during the night, but then dismissed such a thought. Grisham was one who was trying to kill her, had blamed her for his own attack. Montoya smiled as he approached Grisham thinking that the Queen was quite happy that the Capitan was in the position that he was in. 

When he stood before the bound and gagged Grisham, Montoya motioned for the guards to leave them. He stood straight with confidence as he looked down at the back of Grisham's head. Montoya nudged his head and Grisham lifted it. His lips were dry, his face was sunburnt, his jaw was still swollen, the ropes that held him to the post were tight. Grisham lifted his head and held it back, the post supporting it as he looked back at Montoya.

"Do you need something to drink, Grisham?"

Grisham stood silent, just how Montoya liked him to be. Montoya walked around Grisham and the post, then surveyed the faces that were semi-gathered around to watch. As soon as he made eye contact with anyone, they went on their way. "Did you have a good evening?"

Grisham kept silent. "Can you speak?"

"Yes, sir," Grisham whispered, then coughed from his hoarse throat, and looked only up at the sky. Montoya made sure that Grisham could see the knife in his hand, as Montoya cleaned under his fingernails with it. 

"I can do one of two things, Grisham. I could plunge this dagger into your side, but sure you are dead, or I could let you go." Montoya stood close to Grisham and glared into his eyes. "Which would you prefer?"

"Take your best shot," Grisham said.

Montoya laughed. "You have two choices also." Grisham looked at him in confusion. "You can be loyal to me and work very hard to convince me that I can trust you once again, or you could desert your post."

"Or I could be dead. You forgot that one."

"I forgot nothing. A dead Grisham is a useless Grisham. You have tried to take my life twice. I have every reason to run this blade into your body. You know that, I know that. Everyone in the pueblo knows that, but they do not know what you have done. That is, unless you have told them. Are you that stupid, Grisham?"

"I asked you yesterday if you enjoyed being a Capitan. Ambition is a marvelous quality for a man to possess. But you have gone about it all wrong. Do you not comprehend the plans that I have made. All the plans had included you. If I would rise, you would rise also. Ambition is one thing, stealing a promotion is something else all together. I thought I was making myself clear, Grisham. You offended me. For that, you will not die. You will not be a martyr for these people. You will work hard to be the perfect soldier and earn my trust. You are demoted. Be loyal, obey your superiors, do your work, and maybe one day, you'll reach Capitan once again. If I do not reassign you first. Do you understand me?"

Grisham chewed at his dry lips and finally nodded. Montoya said, "I hear that the governor is going to make a appearance. You will not be seen. You will be in the middle of maneuvers with the other recruits when he comes to Santa Helena. No one will know of your blunder, unless you tell them."

Montoya used the dagger to cut the ropes holding Grisham to the post. Grisham fell with a thud to the ground, dust swirled around him. Montoya turned around and yelled, "Helm! See to him."

He felt a hand on his shoe and saw Grisham's hand clamped on. He looked into Grisham's eyes, which had started to water and he was mouthing that he was sorry. Montoya kicked his hand away and stood back while Helm and two soldiers lifted Grisham and walked him to his quarters. Montoya's eyes fell upon Tessa and Marta, who were standing by their carriage, having watched from a distance at what had taken place. They both nodded with a smile to him. Montoya bowed his head in return, wondering how best he would deal with Senorita Alvarado, who he knew as a fact, was the Queen of Swords. He had seen her dressed as such in her home. What exactly he was doing at the Alvarado hacienda that evening, he couldn't say, it was fuzzy, but he had seen her. 

It had been months since Montoya had stopped asking in frustration who the Queen was. Maybe he had known all along. She had stolen his latest shipment of arms just a couple of days ago. She couldn't have destroyed them, she probably hadn't given them away. She may have sold them to finance her activities. Montoya dismissed that thought. _No, I would wager that she has them hidden somewhere. Somewhere close_.

He realized that he had been going about capturing the Queen from the wrong angle. Wanting to kill was too easy. It was the coward's way out of tight spots. When the Queen steals, he would just have to steal it back. She would learn, sooner or later, that no one could put one over Colonel Luis Montoya. He motioned to two of his waiting guards to come and quietly ordered them to scour the hills of the colony for the guns, so no one else could hear. 

He didn't care how long it took, he would find his contraband. From now on, every movement his troops would make would know that she would appear. Let her do what she needed, then find where she stashed his things. Montoya smiled when he realized that he could drive her mad from being stolen from, teach her what it feels like. If someone was to be executed, they would be executed before the Queen could free them. The Queen would no longer be an issue. They would make every move knowing that she would arrive. Her life or death meant nothing. One day, Maria Teresa would marry and have children. She would tire of her 'work'. No more leaving things for others. She may even marry Montoya. He would begin the seduction as soon as he could stand without his side roaring with pain. But her eyes had been focused on the doctor yesterday while tending to his wound. Also this morning, when she arrived to see what she could do by way of nursing him, in the doctor's presence. He liked to think that she was so concerned because of him, but Montoya knew it was because his doctor was that irritating Brit. He didn't seem to even look twice at Maria Teresa, but Montoya knew that Helm was certainly smitten with the Queen. He would have to work fast before Helm realized that the two women were one and the same.

THE END Grisham paced in deep thought, making plans. Then he stopped. He had done the exact same thing that morning and had done an extremely foolish thing. He looked toward the bed. He didn't see the comatose Colonel, as he had while there were others in the room. What he saw was a slight smile on the Colonel's face that slowly grew. The Colonel opened his eyes, squinted with what must have been massive pain, and stared up at him. "So, Grisham. How do you plan on escaping with your life?"

With those words from his superior that he had stabbed to kill, Grisham felt as if his head had lifted off his head and was floating out the window. He looked toward the window and saw Doctor Helm lifted Senorita Alvarado's hand as she stepped into her carriage. The Colonel had been faking his amnesia! "Um," Grisham uttered. "Well...um," he continued, scratching his head. The he mumbled, "This is troubling..." 

He was at a loss of what to say, so he would just roll with the flow. "Sir," he said to Montoya as Montoya slowly sat up, holding the bedpost for support. At that moment, Grisham had intense respect for the Spaniard. He had seen Montoya deal with almost impossible tasks and had always come out smelling like one of his prized roses in his courtyard. The big knob on his forehead, where Grisham's hilt had made contact, was deep red with a splash of purple. He had been stabbed in the side, but Montoya was slowly rising to his feet. The Colonel stood straight, even though Grisham knew it had to hurt like hell. 

"Would it help matters at all to say that I am sorry?"

Montoya's hand clamped onto Grisham's shoulder, making the American jerk in surprise from the strength that came behind it. "It would help," Montoya said. "But I doubt that it would change the situation."

"Sir," Grisham said, thinking he would beg, plead, and beg again for his life. 

Montoya smiled and softly pointed his finger to his face. "That is good. That is a start. I am Sir." Montoya shook his head with anger. "'Have you lost your marbles'? 'Dealing with a full deck'? Yes, Capitan, I remember Reyes, and I am **_not_** the devil." Then Montoya backhanded Grisham across the face. Grisham fell back on the bed and slid to the floor. He looked up at Montoya holding his jaw, that could very well be broken. "I am only a man. A man... who outranks you."

Montoya sat on the bed and peered down to sneer into Grisham's ear. "Have you enjoyed being a Capitan, Grisham?"

Grisham tried to speak, but his jaw was on fire. Instead, he only nodded the affirmative. Montoya slapped him on the head. "No, you have not. If you had, you would not have done such a stupid thing." Grisham didn't want to look at him, but saw him straighten his dressing gown as he sat just by Grisham's shoulder. "I do not even have to pull the trigger to end your life. I do not even have to give the order to have you swing from the gallows."

Grisham looked up at Montoya as the Colonel paused as if to listen. "Do you hear that, Grisham? I believe that those are the foot steps of a certain Brit who does seem to want justice in everything in life. All I have to do is lay back on this bed and cringe in pain and tell the good doctor that it was you who stabbed me."

There was a knock on the door and Montoya answered, "One moment, please," in a voice that was full of pain, weak in volume. 

They heard Helm say, "Very well," and he did not enter.

"You see, Grisham," Montoya whispered into Marcus' ear. "I could leave it to the doctor to order your confinement. He is a Lieutenant, never forget that. Yes, in the enemy's army, but insubordination is still insubordination. Attempted murder... is universal. Yes," Montoya smiled. "I knew there was a good reason that I chose that particular doctor for my pueblo. He has not been very quick to obey me, but he would not be able to control himself when he finds out what you have done."

Grisham stood, holding his jaw. He didn't like the grin on Montoya's face, like he had just opened the best Christmas present that he had ever received. Grisham knew he couldn't stay there and his mind whirled of all the possible places that he could hide, to get supplies for the long trip out of Santa Helena, then out of the county. Vera. She would help him. She might even allow him to hide out in their hacienda for a few days. 

All Grisham's plans were mute as Montoya laid back and said in a pain addled voice, "Doctor, please enter."

The door opened and Helm looked from Montoya pulling the blanket over his body on the bed to Grisham, who didn't like the turn of events. Helm asked, "Have you been out of bed, Colonel?"

"Only to test my strength, doctor," Montoya said, without taking his eyes off of Grisham. 

Helm looked at Grisham's red and swollen chin. "What happened to you?"

"Well," Grisham said, causing his jaw pain. "I will leave you now."

Before he could make it out the door, Montoya yelled, "Guards! Take hold of that man. Do not let him get away."

Suddenly there were four guards who entered the Colonel's bedroom, but they didn't move to apprehend Grisham. Grisham smiled. He himself was there immediate superior and wouldn't do such a thing. He had to be quick. Helm asked, "What is going on here?"

Montoya raised his hand and said, "He... is to be held for questioning. Not in a nice cell, tied in the square." Grisham started for the door, but Montoya yelled, "Now!" then collapsed back on the bed. The guards snapped to attention and grabbed Grisham's arms and led him out of the bedroom. Grisham didn't say a word, he didn't fight them. He was caught and he would face the consequences, for the moment. 

**THE NEXT DAY**

Montoya stood before his mirror wearing his best uniform. The black suit would be warm under the sun, but the gold brocade at his neck made him look stronger than he actually was. He had made a decision about Grisham's fate and wanted to look as official as possible, if not down right regal. It hurt to lift his right arm too much because of the stitches, so he turned to the waiting Helm. "Would you be so kind as to tie this for me?"

Helm walked to him and tied the ascot and tucked it into his jacket. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what in the bloody hell is going on? Why has Grisham been tied to that post for over 24 hours? No food, I haven't been able to check his jaw. You're actually treating him as the enemy."

Montoya turned back toward the mirror and said, "Your army dealt with situations your way, I deal with them in mine." He made sure he was as presentable as he had hoped. "Very nice, Helm. Very nice work. You have tied an ascot or two in your life. When will you ever reveal what all you are?"

He didn't give Helm enough time to reply. He pointed at an ornate wood box and asked Helm to bring it to him. When Montoya opened it, the medal glowed when the sun hit it. Helm said, "Aren't you wearing enough military honors already, Colonel?"

"You can never wear enough when you need to make a point." Montoya took the medal from the velvet lined box, blew on it and rubbed it on his jacket. Then, while looking in the mirror, he pinned the golden star on his chest. After one more look in the mirror, he decided that he was ready.

"Stay here, Helm," he said as he walked to open the door.

"You shouldn't even be out of bed, let alone dressed and walking."

"Stay here." Montoya grabbed the dagger on the table before opening the door and walking out onto the balcony. His first sight was Grisham tied to the post. His head was hanging down, people were avoiding him, gave him a wide berth as they would pass by the post. Not only was he teaching Grisham a lesson, but if Montoya could treat the Captain that way, no one was safe.

It took great pains to walk down the steps from the balcony to the square, but he did it, head held high, a guard at each side. First a few, then slowly everyone in the square saw him and silently watched the Colonel descend the steps and walk toward his prisoner. As Montoya walked the length toward the post and Grisham, who hadn't realized what was happening. The townspeople averted their eyes from the Colonel and made tracks to get out of the way. In the back of his mind, Montoya had expected the Queen of Swords to try to free Grisham during the night, but then dismissed such a thought. Grisham was one who was trying to kill her, had blamed her for his own attack. Montoya smiled as he approached Grisham thinking that the Queen was quite happy that the Capitan was in the position that he was in. 

When he stood before the bound and gagged Grisham, Montoya motioned for the guards to leave them. He stood straight with confidence as he looked down at the back of Grisham's head. Montoya nudged his head and Grisham lifted it. His lips were dry, his face was sunburnt, his jaw was still swollen, the ropes that held him to the post were tight. Grisham lifted his head and held it back, the post supporting it as he looked back at Montoya.

"Do you need something to drink, Grisham?"

Grisham stood silent, just how Montoya liked him to be. Montoya walked around Grisham and the post, then surveyed the faces that were semi-gathered around to watch. As soon as he made eye contact with anyone, they went on their way. "Did you have a good evening?"

Grisham kept silent. "Can you speak?"

"Yes, sir," Grisham whispered, then coughed from his hoarse throat, and looked only up at the sky. Montoya made sure that Grisham could see the knife in his hand, as Montoya cleaned under his fingernails with it. 

"I can do one of two things, Grisham. I could plunge this dagger into your side, but sure you are dead, or I could let you go." Montoya stood close to Grisham and glared into his eyes. "Which would you prefer?"

"Take your best shot," Grisham said.

Montoya laughed. "You have two choices also." Grisham looked at him in confusion. "You can be loyal to me and work very hard to convince me that I can trust you once again, or you could desert your post."

"Or I could be dead. You forgot that one."

"I forgot nothing. A dead Grisham is a useless Grisham. You have tried to take my life twice. I have every reason to run this blade into your body. You know that, I know that. Everyone in the pueblo knows that, but they do not know what you have done. That is, unless you have told them. Are you that stupid, Grisham?"

"I asked you yesterday if you enjoyed being a Capitan. Ambition is a marvelous quality for a man to possess. But you have gone about it all wrong. Do you not comprehend the plans that I have made. All the plans had included you. If I would rise, you would rise also. Ambition is one thing, stealing a promotion is something else all together. I thought I was making myself clear, Grisham. You offended me. For that, you will not die. You will not be a martyr for these people. You will work hard to be the perfect soldier and earn my trust. You are demoted. Be loyal, obey your superiors, do your work, and maybe one day, you'll reach Capitan once again. If I do not reassign you first. Do you understand me?"

Grisham chewed at his dry lips and finally nodded. Montoya said, "I hear that the governor is going to make a appearance. You will not be seen. You will be in the middle of maneuvers with the other recruits when he comes to Santa Helena. No one will know of your blunder, unless you tell them."

Montoya used the dagger to cut the ropes holding Grisham to the post. Grisham fell with a thud to the ground, dust swirled around him. Montoya turned around and yelled, "Helm! See to him."

He felt a hand on his shoe and saw Grisham's hand clamped on. He looked into Grisham's eyes, which had started to water and he was mouthing that he was sorry. Montoya kicked his hand away and stood back while Helm and two soldiers lifted Grisham and walked him to his quarters. Montoya's eyes fell upon Tessa and Marta, who were standing by their carriage, having watched from a distance at what had taken place. They both nodded with a smile to him. Montoya bowed his head in return, wondering how best he would deal with Senorita Alvarado, who he knew as a fact, was the Queen of Swords. He had seen her dressed as such in her home. What exactly he was doing at the Alvarado hacienda that evening, he couldn't say, it was fuzzy, but he had seen her. 

It had been months since Montoya had stopped asking in frustration who the Queen was. Maybe he had known all along. She had stolen his latest shipment of arms just a couple of days ago. She couldn't have destroyed them, she probably hadn't given them away. She may have sold them to finance her activities. Montoya dismissed that thought. _No, I would wager that she has them hidden somewhere. Somewhere close_.

He realized that he had been going about capturing the Queen from the wrong angle. Wanting to kill was too easy. It was the coward's way out of tight spots. When the Queen steals, he would just have to steal it back. She would learn, sooner or later, that no one could put one over Colonel Luis Montoya. He motioned to two of his waiting guards to come and quietly ordered them to scour the hills of the colony for the guns, so no one else could hear. 

He didn't care how long it took, he would find his contraband. From now on, every movement his troops would make would know that she would appear. Let her do what she needed, then find where she stashed his things. Montoya smiled when he realized that he could drive her mad from being stolen from, teach her what it feels like. If someone was to be executed, they would be executed before the Queen could free them. The Queen would no longer be an issue. They would make every move knowing that she would arrive. Her life or death meant nothing. One day, Maria Teresa would marry and have children. She would tire of her 'work'. No more leaving things for others. She may even marry Montoya. He would begin the seduction as soon as he could stand without his side roaring with pain. But her eyes had been focused on the doctor yesterday while tending to his wound. Also this morning, when she arrived to see what she could do by way of nursing him, in the doctor's presence. He liked to think that she was so concerned because of him, but Montoya knew it was because his doctor was that irritating Brit. He didn't seem to even look twice at Maria Teresa, but Montoya knew that Helm was certainly smitten with the Queen. He would have to work fast before Helm realized that the two women were one and the same.

**THE END**

   [1]: mailto:EnyaJo@aol.com



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